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He went athwart one of their meadows, leaving a track of
trampled grass behind his feet, and presently sat down by the side
of one of their ways. He felt something of the buoyancy that comes
to all men in the beginning of a fight, but more perplexity. He
began to realise that you cannot even fight happily with creatures
who stand upon a different mental basis to yourself. Far away he
saw a number of men carrying spades and sticks come out of the
street of houses and advance in a spreading line along the several
paths towards him. They advanced slowly, speaking frequently to
one another, and ever and again the whole cordon would halt and
sniff the air and listen.
The first time they did this Nunez laughed. But afterwards he
did not laugh.
One struck his trail in the meadow grass and came stooping and
feeling his way along it.
For five minutes he watched the slow extension of the cordon,
and then his vague disposition to do something forthwith
became frantic. He stood up, went a pace or so towards the
circumferential wall, turned, and went back a little way. There
they all stood in a crescent, still and listening.
He also stood still, gripping his spade very tightly in both
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